Back to Reality April 19, 2008

I went to Boracay with friends last April 11-14. It was super fun! This trip was 2 years in the making. I was with BF and I’s close circle of friends from college. My bestfriend was there also! No trip could’ve been more fun! We had a 2pm flight out of Manila on Friday (April 11) and an 8 am flight out of Caticlan on Monday (April 14). We stayed at Ole, yes, it’s the Mexican/Cuban/Spanish restaurant in D Mall. They really have nice rooms. They had 3 rooms in all and we rented all of them, hehe, we were 8 in the group eh. The 1st room was good for 2 then the 2nd was good for 3 then the 3rd room was good for 4 but if you’re a tight group I’m sure it’ll fit more. BF and I were in the 2nd room. The group was supposed to be 9 but 1 friend backed out at the last minute because he was sick with fever for 3 days already. We got settled in the room at around 5pm already so the 1st day wasn’t really filled with activities. We just had dinner at Gasthoff - yummy ribs - then we had drinks at Paraw after.

We really went there just to relax so we just had steady days. Sleep, eat, drink, sleep, eat, drink & so on and so forth. And we didn’t do any water activities any more (snorkeling, parasailing, etc). We just lounged at the beach and drank shakes. Oh, it rained! But we were swimming at the time so it was fun! I met a girl from the Czech republic, her name’s Marcela. One of my friends wanted her braids so I asked Marcela where she got hers (it had beads kase). We had lunch at Shenna’s (near Rock & Roll crepes) - I ordered their Carbonara which was literally a plate full of pasta. For P125, it wasn’t bad. Though the service will take long. Whether you come early or during lunch hours - which will take longer. For happy hour we drank in Guilly’s Island but before we got their me, BF and one friend ate ihaw ihaw first. I had 1 isaw and a hotdog, hehe There was an event going on it was Myx at the Paraw area while it was Campus 99.5 RT at Guilly’s. The bands over at Myx were nice but the crowd wasn’t. It was too much so we just stayed at Guilly’s. I have a picture with Ramon Bautista! Haha he was a host at the event since he’s also a DJ for 99.5 RT. He’s sooo funny in person! And he’s really nice & accommodating. Kamikaze was the main band of the night and when they started playing the crowd came flooding in! As in children, manongs, bangkeros, everyone! We almost got trampled on! Good thing we weren’t sitting on the mats & pillows on the sand. 2 of our friends were asked to join a game in between bands, the guys who invited them were sitting just behind us (inside the ropes) so we just crossed to the ropes and stayed with them. Kamikaze was sooo good! Jay was so entertaining! He got the crowd hooked! After they performed we just stayed at Guilly’s and partied!

The following day was a really slow once since it was a Sunday. A friend of ours is staying in Boracay already because he’s fixing something for work there. He works for a company that has ferry deliveries to Caticlan and he’s in Boracay because he’s fixing the delivery route there. Anyway, he took us to this amazing place near Panoly & Shangri-La already (super dulo), waaay past Station 1 already. It was also near the Balinghai residential condominiums. The beach front had, I think, around 4 hug cabanas where you can just lounge. Eat, drink, sleep, smoke or what have you. We bought liempo on the way there and we had it bbq’d for us. I think this is private property so it’s not something really accessible to anyone. Our friend knows the manager (I think) of the area. We stayed there the whole afternoon until early evening, BF and I joined our group around 7:30-8pm already. We just had dinner at Ole and bought drinks to drink upstairs. Since we had an early flight the next day we just decided to stay in and drink in the biggest room. We left Ole at around 6:30am and we were settled in the pre-departure area by 7:15-7:20. When we arrived in Manila we had brunch at Lin Lu restaurant, it’s one of the little eateries beside the Domestic airport. Since some of them had shift that night, we all hailed cabs and went on our merry way.

I didn’t have shift Monday night anymore because technically I was a “bum” already. I resigned from Accenture already and I’m now working for Globe Telecom. I’m officially starting on Monday (April 21). My first day was last April 16 but the 3 days were just for orientation so I start work on Monday. Good luck to me! I’m really excited! My first time ever since I started working to work during “normal” hours. I’m still adjusting to the rush hour traffic and the huge amounts of people. I didn’t get to experience this at night. This is also my 1st time to work at an “office”. After working in a call center, I worked in a BPO setup, pretty much the same except we didn’t have calls.

I am welcoming the change. I’m even embracing it! I can’t really say much about it yet since I haven’t officially started but we’ll see by the end of next week if I’m still alive, haha!

I’m welcoming myself to the real world.

A Long Walk Home December 14, 2007

This is probably the story that touched me the most. Made me cry the most. Everyone passes through this stage of rebellion against one’s parents and I, for one, am guilty of this. I snuck out or I told them I was doing a project at a classmate’s house when we were just hanging out (which is really just hanging out). These little snippets of “withheld information” all accumulate to guilt. Whether the truth was discovered or not when you see your mom coming home from her flight all tired but she still manages to be cheerful and even have something for each child, it’s that guilt you’re feeling, it eats you up inside. Or when daddy comes home after several months and all he hears is bickering and shouting. How you deeply wished that you didn’t tell them that you just hung out in school and not spent the extra hour “doing projects”. As we grow old, these snippets of lies turn into more serious stuff. You’re not just over at a classmate’s house for the afternoon; you’re even there until the next day. Sometimes you do have projects but other times you’re there to drink and be cool. I can go on and on and on with all of these “activities” but I’ll just let this story do the telling.

A Long Walk Home
by Jason Bocarro

 

          I grew up in the south of Spain in a little community called Estepona. I was 16 when one morning, my father told me I could drive him into a remote village called Mijas, about 18 miles away, on the condition that I take the car in to be serviced at a nearby garage. Having just learned to drive, and hardly ever having the opportunity to use the car, I readily accepted. I drove dad into MIjas and promised to pick him up by 4 pm, then drove to a nearby garage and dropped off the car. Because I had a few hours to spare, I decided to catch a couple of movies at a theater near the garage. However, I became so immersed in the films that I completely lost track of time. When the last movie had finished, I looked down at my watch. It was six o’ clock. I was two hours late!

 

I knew Dad would be angry if he found out I’d been watching movies. He’d never let me drive again. I decided to tell him that the car needed some repairs and that they had taken longer than had been expected. I drove up to the place where we had planned to meet and saw Dad waiting patiently on the corner. I apologized for being late and told him that I’d come as quickly as I could, but the car had needed some major repairs. I’ll never forget the look he gave me.

 

“I’m disappointed that you feel you have to lie to me, Jason.”

 

“What do you mean? I’m telling the truth.”

 

Dad looked at me again. “When you did not show up, I called the garage to ask if there were any problems, and they told me that you had not yet picked up the car. So you see, I know there were no problems with the car.” A rush of guilt ran through me as I feebly confessed to my trip to the movie theater and the real reason for my tardiness. Dad listened intently as a sadness passed through him.

 

“I’m angry, not with you but with myself. You see, I realize that I have failed as a father if after all these years you feel that you have to lie to me. I have failed because I have brought up a son who cannot even tell the truth to his own father. I’m going to walk home now and contemplate where I have gone wrong all these years.”

 

“But Dad, it’s 18 miles to home. It’s dark. You can’t walk home.”

 

My protests, my apologies and the rest of my utterances were useless. I had let my father down, and I was about to learn one of the most painful lessons of my life. Dad began walking along the dusty roads. I quickly jumped in the car and followed behind, hoping he would relent. I pleaded all the way, telling him how sorry I was, but he simply ignored me, continuing on silently, thoughtfully and painfully. For 18 miles I drove behind him, averaging about 5 miles per hour.

 

Seeing my father in so much physical and emotional pain was the most distressing and painful experience that I have ever faced. However, it was also the most successful lesson. I have never lied to him since.

The Cost of Gratefulness December 14, 2007

I was smoking outside again and the first reading material I picked up on the way outside was the Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul, again. The couple of stories/entries I read told me that even if it says it’s for the “teenage” soul; it isn’t really like that. What I’m trying to say is that adults can’t just dismiss the material just because it says it’s for the teenage soul; we were teenagers once, right? And it doesn’t hurt to get slapped in the face sometimes to realize that we’re living much too fast. We have to stop and look around and appreciate all the beauty that’s surrounding us. Not just nature per se but the people that are directly and indirectly involved in our life. Here are a couple of the stories that made me tear up (well, I am a cry baby).

The Cost of Gratefulness
By Randal Jones

I was about 13. My father frequently took me on short outings on Saturdays. Sometimes we went to a park, or to a marina to look at boats. My favorites were trips to junk stores, where we could admire old electronic stuff. Once in a while we would buy something for 50 cents just to take it apart.

On the way home from these trips, Dad frequently stopped at the Dairy Queen for 10-cent ice cream cones. Not every single time; just often enough. I couldn’t expect it, but I could hope and pray from the time we started heading home to that critical corner where we would either go straight for the ice cream or turn and go home empty-handed. That corner meant either mouth-watering excitement or disappointment.

A few times my father teased my by going home the long way. “I’m just going this way for variety,” he would say, as we drove by the Dairy Queen without stopping. It was a game, and I was well fed, so we’re not talking torture here.

On the best days he would ask, in a tone that made it sound novel and spontaneous, “Would you like an ice cream cone?” and I would say, “That sounds great, Dad!” I’d always have chocolate and he’d have vanilla. He would hand me 20 cents and I would run in to buy the usual. We’d eat them in the car. I loved my dad and I loved ice cream – so that was heaven.

On one fateful day, we were heading home, and I was hoping and praying for the beautiful sound of his offer. It came. “Would you like an ice cream cone today?”

“That sounds great, Dad!”

But then he said, “It sounds good to me too, Son. How would you like to treat today?”

Twenty cents! Twenty cents! My mind reeled. I could afford it. I got 25 cents a week allowance, plus some extra for odd jobs. But saving money was important. Dad told me that. And when it was money, ice cream just wasn’t a good use of it.

Why didn’t it occur to me that this was a golden opportunity to give something back to my very generous father? Why didn’t I think that he bought me 50 ice cream cones, and I had never bought him one? But all I could think was “20 cents!”

In a fit of selfish, miserly ingratitude, I said the awful words that have rung in my ears ever since. “Well, in that case, I guess I’ll pass.”

My father just said, “Okay, Son.”

But was we turned to head home, I realized how wrong I was and begged him to turn back. “I’ll pay,” I pleaded.

But he just said, “That’s okay, we don’t really need one,” and wouldn’t hear my pleading. We drove home.

I felt awful for my selfishness and ungratefulness. He didn’t rub it in, or even act disappointed. But I don’t think he could have done anything to make a deeper impression on me.

I learned that generosity goes two ways and gratefulness sometimes costs a little more than “thank you.” On that day gratefulness would have cost 20 cents, and it would have been the best ice cream I’d ever had.

I’ll tell you one more thing. We went on another trip the next week, and as we approached the crucial corner, I said, “Dad, would you like an ice cream cone today? My treat.”

Animals December 7, 2007

I got the idea from Chico’s blog and I wanted to have a version of my own. Hope he doesn’t mind.

These animals are sooo adorable!

Mahangin ba sa labas?

“I… can’t… get…up… Help? Anyone?”

“I think someone’s following me…”

“I didn’t do it.”

“Hey, wait up!”

Cute tiger cubs

Cute cute panda cubs!

Helping ‘hand’

“Hi…”

“…but I can’t cross by myself…”

Duck Xing

“You need a bath.”

“What are you?” said the animal to the kid.

Cute cute cute!!

BFFs

“I am not a cat.” [Master of disguise]

*All images grabbed from Google.

Adulthood December 7, 2007

I always bring something to read with me when I’m smoking. Be it a romance novel (firtst choice always :)) magazine, newspaper, Reader’s Digest or whatever happens to be lying around the house or on the dinner table. The book that I grabbed yesterday was Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul; the first one. Because there’s a part 2 already then there’s the journal and I think a 3rd already, not sure on that anymore. Anyway, I was just flipping through the pages and came upon this article that I really liked. It’s so real and it didn’t sugarcoat anything and it’s funny too. I tried finding the article online so that I can just copy it here but I can’t find it (or maybe my research skills are not working). So, I’ll just type it manually here - that’s how much I like it.

Adulthood
by Robert Fulghum

After the dishes are washed and the sink rinsed out, there are remains in the strainer at the bottom of the sink what I will call, momentarily, some “stuff”. A rational, intelligent, objective person would say this is simply a mixture of bits of protein, carbohydrates, fat and fiber. Dinner dandruff.

Furthermore, the person might add that not only was that material first sterilized by the high heat of cooking, but further sanitized by going through the detergent and hot water of the dishpan, and rinsed. No problem.

But any teenager who has been dragooned into washing dishes knows this explanation as a lie. That stuff in the bottom of the strainer is toxic waste — deadly poison — a danger to health. In other words, about as icky as icky gets.

One of the very few reasons I had any respect for my mother when I was 13 was because she would reach into the sink with her bare hands - BARE HANDS - and pick up that lethal gunk and drop it into the garbage. To top that, I saw her reach into the wet garbage and fish around in there looking for a lost teaspoon BAREHANDED - a kind of mad courage. She found the spoon in a clump of coffee grounds mixed with scrambled egg remains and the end of the vegetable soup. I almost passed out when she handed it to me to rinse off. No teenager who wanted to live would have touched that without being armed with gloves, a face mask and stainless-steel tongs.

Once, in school, I came across the French word ordure, and when the teacher told me it meant “unspeakable filth” I knew exactly to what it referred. We had it every night. In the bottom of the sink.

When I reported my new word to my mother at dish washing time, she gave me her my-son-the-idiot look and explained that the dinner I had just eaten was in just about the same condition in my stomach at the moment, rotting, and it hadn’t even been washed and rinsed before it went down my drain. If she had given me a choice between that news and being hit across the head with a two-by-four, I would have gone for the board.

I lobbied long and hard for a disposal and automatic dishwasher, knowing full well that they had been invented so that nobody would ever have to touch the gunk again.

Never mind what any parent or objective adult might tell me, I knew the stuff in the sink drainer was lethal and septic. It would give you leprosy, or something worse. If you should accidentally touch it, you must never touch any other part of your body with your finger until you had scalded and soaped and rinsed your hands. Even worse, I knew that the stuff could congeal and mush up and mutate into some living thing that would crawl out of the sink during the night and get loose in the house.

Why not just use rubber gloves, you ask? Oh, come on. Rubber gloves are for sissies. Besides, my mother used her bare hands, remember. My father never came closer than three feet to the sink in his life. My mother said he was lazy. But I knew that he knew what I knew about the gunk.

Once, after dinner, I said to him that I bet Jesus never had to wash dishes and clean the gunk out of the sink. He agreed. It was the only theological discussion we ever had.

My father, however, would take a plunger to the toilet when it was stopped up with even more worse stuff. I wouldn’t even go in the room when he did it. I didn’t want to know.

But now. Now, I am a grown-up. And have been for some time. And I imagine making a speech to a high school graduating class. First, I would ask them, “How many of you would like to be an adult, an independent, on-your-own citizen?” All would raise their hands with some enthusiasm. And then I would give them a list of things that grown-ups do.

• clean the sink strainer
• plunge out the toilet
• clean up babies when they poop and pee
• wipe runny noses
• clean up the floor when the baby throws strained spinach
• clean ovens and grease traps and roasting pans
• empty the kitty box and scrape up the dog doo
• carry out the garbage
• pump out the bilges
• bury dead pets when they get run over in the street

I’d tell the graduates that when they can do these things, they will be adults. Some of the students might not want to go on at this point. But they may as well face the truth.

It can get even worse that the list suggests. My wife is a doctor, and I won’t tell you what she tells me she has to do sometimes. I wish I didn’t know. I feel ill at ease sometimes being around someone who does those things. And also proud.

A willingness to do your share of cleaning up the mess is a test. And taking out the garbage of this life is a condition of membership in a community.

When you are a kid, you feel that if they really loved you, they wouldn’t ever ask you to take out the garbage. When you join the ranks of the grown-ups, you take out the garbage because you love them. And by “them” I mean not only your own family, but the family of mankind.

The old cliche holds firm and true.

Being an adult is dirty work.

But someone has to do it.

BFFs November 16, 2007

I don’t know what I was doing at work but my bestfriends just popped into my head and I was taking a trip down memory lane and was laughing to myself because we’re all crazy. We’ve had our share of misunderstandings, but I think that’s healthy and part of life. At least we get to know each other better, discover what irks up who so we’ll be more cautious next time if certain topics are too sensitive for one. I was thinking up a list of things that are great about (girl) bestfriends and here’s what I’ve come up so far:

• I’m naturally mabalbon (uhm, hairy?) - arms & legs to be exact; so when I’m too lazy to shave my legs (and they just happen to drop by my place) it’s ok for your BFFs to see them in all their stubble glory.

• I can change my clothes in front of them and don’t worry that they’ll see my ‘back flaps’, love handles, arm ‘wings’, stretch marks and the like.

• You’re comfortable with each other that when you’re just staying at someone’s house and just watching DVDs and eating chocolates and/or chips you can remove your bra.

• You can be as bitchy as hell and as mean as an old man with hemorrhoids and you don’t worry that she’ll judge you for that - there’s a silent understanding that it’s just not your day.

• BFFs will binge with me on chocolate, cake, ice cream or whatever the craving is - and not feel guilty (or make you feel guilty) after. And there’s that silent understanding again that this is a ‘valid binge’ because there’s a very valid reason behind it - either you had a fit with your beau or your BFF didn’t get a promotion or you’re having cramps or just because.

• BFFs will really, truly be honest and tell you that whatever you’re trying on makes your arms or hips or legs or stomach or even your nose (?!) look humongous and gigantic. And it won’t be embarrassing even if they’ve seen it on you already.

• BFFs share sexcapades (or make out sessions) with each other and know that they won’t be called a slut by them - or a nympho if you’re committed.

• BFFs know your moods already - when you see each other, they can already tell by the look on your face if there’s something wrong or if you have some juicy gossip to spill.

• BFFs will watch that cheesy, romantic, corny movie with you - even if there’s the risk of people seeing you enter/exit the cinema.

These are just some of the stuff that I came up with in the office; I’ll just add along when I think of more stuff.

Speaking of BFFs, I miss the girls already!

My home March 15, 2007

Whenever I read home magazines I can’t help but imagine what my future house would look like. What drapes I’d use for the master bedroom, for the sala, for the dining, basta everything. I think of what print I’d choose for my plates, bowls, glasses, platters, etc. I want a master bedroom that’s big. Not huge, but big enough. I don’t want a TV in front of my bed; I’d probably want a little alcove by the window where I’d have a sofa or a love seat then I’d place the TV there; I’d also love a bay window. I’d have a bookshelf with all my romance novels and maybe a few other books as well; like coffee table books maybe — but I’d probably put them in the living room so that guests will have something look at. I want to host brunches & luncheons with my best girlfriends and I want to cook dinner for a true blue party for my friends. I’d want my kitchen to be up to date with the latest ‘kitchen stuff’ that I can have. I want an oven that I can understand as I would want to try baking something other than chocolate chip cookies. I want to make pies; all kinds of them! Yes, including the dessert kind. Oh, and I want a nice, spacious bathroom too. That’s one of my pet peeves whenever we go out of town or stay in another person’s house where I have to use the bathroom. I’m really choosy when it comes to bathrooms. I never, ever want the shower to be ‘just there’ with the rest of the banyo; I want it separated, I mean it has to have like a, what, divider? between the toilet and the shower? Or maybe just put in a shower that are enclosed in glass that has a door; something like that. I also want a separate room for the computer; it’ll be like a mini office where all my artsy stuff would be kept also; like pretty paper for scrapbooking; scissors, tape, bond paper, ink, stapler — the usual office stuff because I’d need them eventually. I want this room to be technologically advanced, haha! complete with scanner, copier, fax machine, printer; but I can probably get one machine that can do all of this.

This is the reason why I love playing Sims so much! I have a family that I maintain but usually I have this one other character that I just build houses for. I remodel, rebuild, then put in furniture; I love it! I think I thought of becoming an interior designer once or an architect; but I can’t draw to save my life! And to think I’m left-handed — you know what they say about left-handed people being artistic, etc, etc. I’m still thinking of other ideas I can put in my house; I’ll just add stuff as I go along. (”,)

 

Sample pictures that I got on the internet; not exactly what I really want but I can still do some rearranging (”,)

• Master bedroom: Something like this; but I’d probably want the door to the bathroom on the other side; haha I don’t know. My imagination is running wild with the things I wanna do to this room!

• Master bathroom: Not quite like this but something similar. I’d want it to be spacious enough so that 2 people can go about their business without having to bump into each other. And I’d want a shower and a tub.

 

• For the home office, I want somthing really bright and spacious as the 1st photo but I think I want to change the desk to something more like the 2nd photo.

• The kitchen would be contemporary. Very sleek and not much design or print.

From my LJ: Forgot the date March 13, 2007

Saw this from a friend’s Multiply blog and it really touched me to the core. All of these are visible today and love is not something that when you do stuff for the one you love you actually tell them something like, “Hey, I did that because I love you”. Its something that is visible yet invisible at the same time. And these are innocent children who can “see” love in everything but to us adults, its like because of how busy we are trying to make money to save up for a nice life, we actually miss these little things and more often than not we take for granted the people that cares for us the most. And I know that there are people in my life that would, if they could, do anything for me. I know I’d do the same thing for them.Below is the article that I copied from Pattypoo and my own personal comments, if any, are in green.

What does Love mean? A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, “What does love mean?” The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined.

See what you think:
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“When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn’t bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That’s love.”
Rebecca- age 8
* I want to have this when S.O. and I grow old. But you know, I have this feeling that we will.
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“When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.” Billy - age 4
* This is so deep yet so simple. Its like you know you feel that way but only Billy here has actually put it into words that I think I myself wouldn’t think of.
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“Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.” Karl - age 5
* Haha funny and cute. But true.
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“Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.” Chrissy - age 6
* Yeah. I know I do this for S.O. Not that I actually am conscious of it every time I do it but I do recall some instances that I have. I’d do anything for that guy.
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“Love is what makes you smile when you’re tired.” Terri - age 4
* That’s my guy, alright.
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“Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.” Danny - age 7
* Every time I make something for S.O. I taste it first. Because for some reason its like I know how his taste buds work? Crazy, yeah. But its like I know how he wants his food to taste like.
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“Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss” Emily - age 8
* The gross part’s cute! Only from a kid. But yeah, even if you don’t have anything to say to each other. The mere presence of them is enough. Comfortable silences, they’re often called.
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“Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.” Bobby - age 7
* This is really wow. Never in a million years would I have given this kind of explanation. Wow.
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“If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,” Nikka - age 6
* We need a few million more Nikka’s on this planet. — I agree with Patty.
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“Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday.” Noelle - age 7
* Haha this is so true.
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“Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.” Tommy - age 6
* I’ve seen this kind of love. I want it when I’m a little old woman.
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“During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn’t scared anymore.” Cindy - age 8
* This is so touching. I’m proud to be my daddy’s girl.
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“My mommy loves me more than anybody You don’t see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.” Clare - age 6
* Sooo true. There’s no one in the world who’ll love more than my mommy.
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“Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.” Elaine-age 5
* I’ve seen this in a movie. I think a friend of the girl told her that if a guy gives her the last piece of the chicken (let’s say they ordered a bucket or something) it means that he already loves her. This is true. I think its because you think of that other person more than your-self, I know other’s would disagree but sans those, love is really like that.
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“Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford.” Chris - age 7
* After tearing up on the previous lines, this made me laugh.
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“Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.” Mary Ann - age 4
* Dogs are the best. Let me rephrase that, puppies are. Hihi coz they’re so cute!
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“I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.” Lauren - age 4
* Haha sweet!
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“When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.” (what an image) Karen - age 7
* Hahaha! Yeah, I was trying to imagine how this would look like.
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“Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn’t think it’s gross.” Mark - age 6
* This is true!!! When I see S.O. on the toilet, I don’t think its gross anymore — it looks normal actually.. I mean, its like a normal everyday thing already. Must be love Hehe..
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“You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget.” Jessica - age 8
* Yup.. Sometimes when S.O. and I fight, I just stop and say I love you. Just to remind him, and me, that we shouldn’t fight anymore. Or to remind us something like “Why are we doing this?we love each other!!!”
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And the final one — Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman’s yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, “Nothing, I just helped him cry”
* I’m speechless.
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